Story : If you want something Done Well
Ideas and preparation The idea had come to him a few days before, messages had been sent, short discussions held in passing, and now Bedo was ready for an expedition to Sarop. The germ of it had started to grow when a batch of parchment had been rough and uneven, annoying him on a cold draughty winter's morning, when there was little else to do but write. It had enlarged when he had cut his finger, sharpening a quill which had been unevenly hardened, and it had finally driven him to action when an ink-horn had broken in his hand, not only wasting valuable ink, but ruining a day's work. He needed better equipment, and he needed to get it himself. Stretton was too small, the grogs had failed to find what he needed there. Sarop although further must have what he needed, even if their visits there seemed to have resulted in tales of fine drinking, rather than the return of quality materials. He would go there himself, he would take others with him if they wanted, and he would return with materials fit for the work of the Order. After all, there was an Abbey there. Monks would have similar needs to his - as far as writing went anyway. It would be a long day, over four leagues each way, so with the cart to ride on it would mean a dawn start, and a mid-afternoon return. It would be wise to take a couple of footmen, and he would see who else wished to travel. For those who did not wish to leave the covenant, but had requirements for purchases, he would do his best to help, but his own trades would have the highest priority. Arrival at Sarop The light rain that had pattered down all morning show no sign of ceasing, but in the distance it caused a faint rainbow to arc gently across the sky. The sunlight, which peeked through the clouds here and there, served to steal away the low feeling that would otherwise have been caused by the gloom and wet. Today, a Thursday, was a market day in Church Stretton, and so while all those with business to perform had headed off to market there, Bedo had found himself heading to a hopefully quieter Sarop, where he might go about his business without bumping shoulders endlessly with others. Geoffrey rode in front of the cart, well wrapped in a warm, greased cloak. A light leather fitting flowed from under his helm over his shoulders keeping the rain water from trickling down his back, something he had learned in his travels. It might look a little outlandish, but was well worth the improvement in comfort. Wyn, a not so young man, but not really elderly, sat guiding the horses from the front of the wagon. He wore a sturdy cap he had owned for years, and a damp cloak bundled around him. His travel blanket, an old grey woollen thing was folded under his backside to cushion the bumps in the road. He could feel how the animals were behaving with by the feel of the reigns he held, so his eyes wandered a bit. They made good progress up the Stretton Vale, past Caer Caradoc and Hockestowe Forest, and on up toward the bridge into Sarop. The town was placed in a most convenient bend in the river, and it was towards this that the the horses now pulled the cart, avoiding the great Abbey and the area of mills, built outside the loop of the river along the road east, to their right, into England. Swinging instead to the left, towards a great bridge, the 'English Bridge', with a steep climb beyond it, the wheels clattered upon the stone flags drawing to a stop before the large, open gate, their entrance barred by a couple of gate-keepers. "Here, now. What's yer business with Sarop?" The older gatekeeper gripped a tall spear, and steadied himself with it as he addressed those on the cart, casting a wary eye over them as he did so. From within the cart, Bedo called out in English, "Geoffrey, tell them our business, and that we have no goods within to sell, and ask that we may be admitted. Also I would ask them the way to any pewterers, and any glassmakers of quality here, for I do not know the town". With a sour glance back at Bedo, Geoffrey grunted at the gatekeeper. "You heard him. Which way, and hurry man, I want to get out of this weather as fast as possible." The gatekeeper's expression changed not a bit at these remarks, for such talk was a daily happenstance for him. It was best to tell them a bit of what they wanted so that the other guard could finish his check, or they would tarry not. Nobles were seldom understanding the need for such measures in their haste to see to their own affairs. He puts on his "considering the question" face for a few moments before replying thus "There's a glassblower or two not far from the East Gate, near tha' wall and a shop selling a bit o' pewter'n'silverware down this street aways. I'm not knowin' much about the glass, but I hear one of them makes for tha churches an' the like." As Geoffrey speaks to the gatekeeper, the other walks slowly around the cart, making sure he has had a good look at the faces of the noble's retinue, and a bit of a peer underneath. Satisfied, he nods to the gatekeeper. "Well, then. You are welcome to come inside, but be warned that we close the gates at sun-down. There's to be no drawing of weapons within the walls, and mind you steer clear of the soldiers up the other end of town." With that, the two men withdraw to side and let the cart continue on. Before they ever get to see him, they hear the deep, booming voice of one of the town criers, who appeared to be partway through a list of miscreants who had been caught for a number of minor crimes. Past this stout and self-important spectacle of a man, the main road through Sarop stretched before them, curving gently away to the left til it disappeared behind the houses. The road was fairly well cobbled, and continued through until it reached the East Gate, where it crossed the River Severn once more and passed by the Abbey. Here they were definitely deep in the Dominion, and of this Bedo had no doubt as he felt his Gift fluttering gently like a pennant in the restless breeze before a storm. Still, he noted, to his surprise(?), that the Dominion's strength here did not seem quite so strong as it had back in the tavern at Church Stretton. Hanging before many of the packed buildings lining the road were large and gaily painted signs of carved wood, mostly seeming to belong to inns and taverns, with a few shops scattered alongside. Nenya on Her Own Nenya loved the sights of Sarop, the various shops and inns, the people milling about. In a way, it reminded her of the tumultuous time of building at the covenant, but with less Magic. As the others were about their business, she went about hers. Seeking out the desired herbs and other particularly needed ingredients for cooking. She moved about with an air of determination and purpose. No one bothered people who had a sense of purpose or so her mother had always told her. Today her purpose was to get the supplies the Covenant needed and quickly. Quickly, because if she was done rapidly that left a few hours of time for her to look around and talk to people. Of course she had no money to pay with. She would just arrange for the goods to be brought together and someone, probably John, would need to come by and pay before they left. Since she was by herself, it didn't seem wise for a young woman to be packing money about. With all this in mind she began haggling for the various items needed. She was able to purchase over half what she came for from one farmers stall. Much of this was produce that could be easily stored for a short time without rotting. The rest she had to work a little harder on, talking with several vendors and asking varous people if they had seen anything that looked like what she needed. Soon however, she was finished with her part of the days business. She had even arranged for the purchase of some much needed supplies for the seamstress, who had been unable to come along for various reasons. Now all that was left was to find John and the others, to arrange for the payments. The Shadows Grow Long By and by the business of the day was conducted and concluded. Nenya and John stood chatting by the cart as they waited for Bedo to return. The traffic in the street grew heavier toward the end of day as the city's denizens returned to their homes, and it was interesting to watch the ever changing procession of humanity pass by. The duly appointed meeting time arrived, and there was no sign of Bedo. The shadows lengthened and the street grew quieter, and still there was no sign of him. With night approaching, Geoffrey took charge of the situation, and order Nenya, John, and Wny to go home with the supplies and appraise the magi of Bedo's disappearance, while he remained behind with his steed to see if he could find the magus. The wagon returned safely to the covenant, though after dark, making the regio boundary crossing a little more difficult than usual. Nenya and John relate the tale to the concerned magi, and after many questions, and no small amount of being-stare-at by Maga Mnemosyne, they were permitted to return to their duties. The following day, around mid-morning, Geoffrey arrived Bedo. He looked genuinely pleased with himself, and carried a carefully wrapped book-sized parcel under his arm. After apologising to the other magi for the concern he had caused, but omitting any detailed explanation, Bedo slipped off to his laboratory. For the remainder of the season little is seen of Bedo. His meals are occasionally found untouched upon his doorstep. Candlelight reflections glimmer upon his window panes throughout the night, and occasionally screams, possibly of triumph or laughter, echo briefly somewhere within. Still, obsessive research is not an atypical behaviour for Magi Bonisagi. He answers his door only to the other magi, and then seems distracted and eager to end the conversation and returned to whatever he was distracted from.